The Lost Fleet Beyond the Frontier Invincible

How could they give decent burials to that many enemy dead, especially when many of the bodies weren’t intact but blown into pieces?

But they had to get them out of the ship, or, within a few days, it would turn into an unlivable hell.

“General, we’ll treat them as best we know how. Working parties will have to collect the enemy dead. Fleet medical will want to retain some specimens; but otherwise, they are to be gathered at one of the cargo docks. A service will be said each time the dock is full, then the bodies will be ejected en masse on a trajectory aimed at the star, and we’ll start filling the dock again.”

“Yes, sir. It would help if we could get sailors to assist in those working parties. It’s not a pleasant job, and there’s a lot to collect.”

Geary shook his head, looking at the fleet status readouts. “General, every sailor I’ve got is working almost around the clock either repairing their own ship or on tiger teams assisting other ships. I have to give priority to getting my ships as combat-ready as possible as soon as possible.” What other resources did he have? The senior officers rescued from the Syndic labor camp on Dunai. The Syndic citizens rescued from the enigma race. There weren’t that many of either, but it was something. “I will ask for volunteers among our two groups of passengers to assist in the cleanup and will see if the auxiliaries have any equipment that can handle the task on its own.”

Carabali let her disappointment show but nodded. “I do understand. No one is taking it easy right now. But even a few personnel besides Marines assisting in the task would be welcome.”

“I’ll have someone there, General.”

It took nearly two days of careful exploring, using Marines assisted by small, robotic probes that could get into any area of the ship before it was declared officially taken by General Carabali. Long before that, human engineers who were desperately needed to help conduct repairs on Geary’s ships had been hauled off those jobs to try to figure out the controls on the superbattleship and render everything safe.

The engineers on the auxiliaries had offered up a half dozen decontamination units, mobile devices designed to enter ships and remove any sort of contagion or pollution. They vacuumed up blood from the air, scrubbed it from bulkheads, decks, and overheads, collected pieces of what the engineers called random biological remains, and scooped up relatively intact dead bear-cows in large numbers to deliver to the designated cargo dock, giving relief to tired and resentful Marines. Midgrade fleet and Marine officers rotated at the dock, each reciting the words of the standard burial service over each mass of dead Kicks before they were sent on their final journey to the star here.

The Marines had found amid the bear-cow dead six who were still alive but too badly injured to arouse to consciousness. The six were transferred to medical quarantine on Mistral while the fleet doctors tried to figure out how to keep them alive.

“What the hell are we going to do with that thing?” Desjani grumbled on the third day. She was exhausted, they were all exhausted. “We are taking it with us, right?”

“Yes. We have to.” Geary knew that she knew the answer as well as he did.

“How?”

That question was a lot harder. “I’ll ask Captain Smythe.” Geary rubbed his eyes, realizing how woolly his mind was after so many days with too little sleep as he supervised so much repair work and everything else. “All units, this is Admiral Geary. Tomorrow is rope yarn. All hands are to relax, sleep, eat, and recharge. To the honor of our ancestors, Geary, out.”

Desjani frowned at him in disbelief. “We can’t afford a day off. And why do they call it rope yarn anyway?”

“I know we can’t, and I don’t know.”

“What?”

“My point exactly,” he said. “We’re all running on empty, our minds fuzzy from fatigue. We need rest, we need a reset, so our efforts can be a lot more effective.”

Captain Smythe protested as well. “My engineers don’t need a rest, Admiral. It will blunt their momentum. They can easily go two or three more days without a break.”

“Are you saying your engineers are fully effective and will remain so if they keep working without a break for two or three more days?” Geary asked.

“Absolutely. Of course, the frequency of hallucinations and erratic behaviors will go up a bit more on an accelerating curve—”

“Give them a rest, Captain Smythe. That’s a firm order. I will be checking to see that the stand-down is enforced.”

Of course, even though Geary made an effort to sleep in, he couldn’t avoid all work that day.

“I request a personal conference,” Captain Badaya said, his image standing in Geary’s stateroom.

Badaya looked as subdued as Geary had ever seen him. “Granted. Sit down, Captain.”

“Thank you, Admiral.” Badaya took a seat in his own stateroom, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. “You already have my formal report of the recent action.”

“Yes. You didn’t spare yourself.”